No man may last on Earth
Devoid of ale -
And how we crave the tang and
Heavy pang of cider
Married thro' the years
May render pale
Our sorry constitution; wider
tho' our repertoires
Doth grow
For amber brews -
And absolution!
Drink is on the mind -
And very kind I say -
So let us up! to play -
Our festival is nigh! -
‘Tis calling round the corner -
Spirits wand'ring high -
If not I'll be a mourner
Having missed
Our being pissed!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem